


wherever you go (go with all your heart)

by twolittlesparks



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6465613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twolittlesparks/pseuds/twolittlesparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ashlyn + ali + airports/airplanes. short, au one-shots.</p><p>"wherever you go, go with all your heart." — confucius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> i saw [this post](http://tickatocka.tumblr.com/post/101530238776) on tumblr and airport AUs!!!! idk if i will write them all or if it'll just be a couple or whatnot. i've written for them but this is the first thing i've put out there (yikes). all mistakes are mine and comments are welcomed!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _you fell asleep and i started making funny faces at your kid to keep them amused and the steward mistook us for a couple_

 

The only thing Ashlyn Harris wants for the 5-hour, cross-country flight from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C. is peace and quiet.

When a tired, sad-looking ( _cute_ , Ashlyn notes) brunette walks up to her row and gives her a tight-lipped smile, she figures her prayers have been answered. But then, said brunette gently pushes her young daughter into Row 23, right into the middle seat.

Ashlyn barely manages to keep from groaning out loud.

She immediately reaches for her noise-cancelling headphones.

Fucking _great_.

 

* * *

 

It doesn't turn out as bad as Ashlyn originally envisioned. Cute, Sad Brunette hands her little girl a princess picture book, and the little girl seems engrossed with it, not even flinching as the plane roars to life and takes off into the morning clouds. Ashlyn starts playing games on her phone and shuffling through her music until she's satisfied.

The next time she glances to her left, the brunette is fast asleep. Her daughter has a slight pout on her face, only halfway through her book, but obviously bored. The little girl must notice Ashlyn move out of the corner of her eye, because she turns, looking up at Ashlyn with wide eyes. Ashlyn can only imagine how she feels, and how can she ignore her anyway? So she does the only thing she can think of.

She sticks her tongue out.

The girl continues to stare at her blankly until Ashlyn crosses her eyes.

A smile spreads across the little girl's face, and Ashlyn doesn't need to take her headphones off to know she's giggling.

Figuring she was on the right track, she points to the girl's mom. Then she flops her head to the side, closing one eye, opening her mouth and letting out an obnoxious fake snore. More giggles, and Ashlyn doesn't want the brunette to wake up to being mocked by a stranger on a plane, so Ashlyn gently shushes the girl, even as she laughs herself. Little hands cover a little mouth, and Ashlyn is relieved when the brunette doesn't stir.

She sends her seat mate a little wink. She gets a wide smile in return, and the little girl flips another page.

 

* * *

 

Ashlyn is admiring the view out the window, fully engrossed in her music, when she feels the gentle touch on her left arm. She jumps as one tiny finger clumsily traces the lines of her tattoo.

Ashlyn reaches up with her right hand, pulling her headphones off and letting them sit around her neck. Concentration unbroken, the little girl never takes her eyes off of her work.

"Do you think that's cool?" Ashlyn asks, in a voice far softer and sweeter than one would imagine belonged to her.

Big brown eyes finally look up in her direction. A smile, an enthusiastic nod.

"Well," Ashlyn shifts, unbuckles, lifting the armrest between them, "let me tell you a story."

She spends the next 10 minutes weaving a tale in hushed tones, using her sleeve as her illustrations, twisting and turning her arm for her captive audience. Once she's done, she smiles at the girl, who just looks at her expectantly.

"'Nother one?"

It's the first thing she's heard her say, and her sweet little mumble melts Ashlyn's heart.

"Sure, kid. Another one."

Halfway through her story about a princess and her unicorn, the little girl shocks Ashlyn by curling up in her seat and laying her head on Ashlyn's left thigh. She falters just slightly, looking over at the girl's mom, who is still sleeping, mouth slightly open, softly snoring.

By the time the princess and her unicorn defeat the dragon, the little girl is sound asleep, her head still on Ashlyn's thigh and her feet stretching into her mom's lap.

It's quiet for a while, so Ashlyn takes advantage of it, pulling her tray table down and pulling out her sketchpad. She debates for only a few seconds before deciding to start sketching the princess and the unicorn from her story.

The only sound coming from their row is the scratch of pencil on paper until the flight attendant goes to pass by with the cart. The cart bumps into the brunette's elbow, startling her awake. After insisting to the apologetic flight attendant that she was fine, she looks over, panic flooding her face when she notices that her daughter is using the blonde as her personal pillow.

"Oh my— I'm so sorry! Let me—"

"No, no!" Ashlyn hushes. "It's— it's okay. Don't disturb her. I told her a couple of different stories before she found them boring enough to pass out on."

"I'm so sorry," the brunette apologizes again, running her fingers over her face and through her hair. "I'm just— it's been a long day," she mumbles, "and I was so tired and—"

"You looked like you needed the rest. I don't mind." The brunette glares at her a little. Ashlyn replays what she said and backtracks. "I mean, you look fine. Great! That's not what I meant."

She barely hears the muttered " _Nice try,_ " from the end of the row.

_Ah, so that's where the daughter gets it from._

"What was that, Mumbles?"

Another narrow-eyed glare.

"23C?"

Okay, now she's pressing her luck.

"Well, what do your friends call you?" Ashlyn tries again, leaning her head back against the seat, raising her eyebrows and smirking at the still-skeptical brunette.

Her face softens. "Alexandra. Well, Ali."

"Ashlyn. And little Sleeping Beauty down here is?"

"Molly. She's 3, going on 23. A handful, in case you couldn't tell."

Ashlyn chuckles quietly. "She's been the best part of my miserable day, don't you worry."

"You too, huh?"

Ashlyn sighs. "You could say that." She gestures down to her lap. "But I've told enough stories for today. So tell me what's bringing you two to the east coast."

"We're heading back home, to be with my parents. Molly's dad hasn't... he's not in the picture. My brother lives in LA, so we've been staying with him for a while. But there's only so much I can do on my own, you know? It's gotten a lot harder and— wow, sorry, I—" she buries her face in her hands, embarrassed, "I can't believe I'm dumping this on a stranger."

"Hey, we all need someone to talk to," Ashlyn says, tender and genuine. "I'm happy to help."

Ali smiles gratefully before noticing Ashlyn's sketch pad open on her tray table. Ali finally convinces a shy Ashlyn to let her see them all, flipping the book to the beginning. Ali's eyes soften as she watches Ashlyn talk passionately about her work, every sketch, every stroke seeming to have deep meaning for the blonde. They talk until the flight attendant passes again.

"Anything else for you ladies?"

Molly's still passed out in between her and Ali, who shakes her head. Ashlyn says, "We're good, thanks."

Molly chooses that moment to roll over, her nose scrunching adorably as she finds a handful of Ashlyn's shirt in her sleep. Ali looks like she's about to step in, another small flash of panic in her eyes, until the flight attendant lets out a soft _awwww_ and smiles warmly down at Molly, one leg dangling down off the seat.

"She's so precious. She's lucky to have two people who love her as much as you do." She pats Ali's shoulder and walks toward the back of the plane.

Ashlyn feels warmth color her cheeks, and she chuckles.

Ali looks sheepish. "I'm sorry. That... this is awkward."

Ashlyn waves her off. "Don't mention it. If that's the worst thing that happens to me for the rest of the day, I'm doing pretty amazing."

 

* * *

 

After what feels like an eternity — a good one, Ashlyn thinks, because she and Ali haven't stopped talking, and Ali seems looser, calmer than she was mere hours ago — they are wheels-down in DC. Once they pass through the jetway and out into the terminal, Ashlyn clears her throat, her overzealous bow earning her chuckles from her newfound friends.

"May I escort you ladies to the baggage claim?" she asks in a ridiculous ( _terrible_ ) British accent.

This time it's Ali's cheeks that flush. In an attempt to hide that fact from Ashlyn (which, Ashlyn will tell her months down the line, didn't work), she looks down at Molly. "I think we would like that, huh, Mol?"

An exuberant "Yay!" is Molly's response.

Ali looks back up at Ashlyn, and Ashlyn's heart flutters, stumbles when she notices Ali's smile finally reach her eyes, a peek of tongue between her teeth.

"Lead the way!"

 

* * *

 

"You really don't have to do that," Ali insists again, though it's through a laugh and half-hearted at best. Molly giggles loudly from her perch atop Ashlyn's shoulders, her head resting on the black-and-white snapback, arms wrapped underneath Ashlyn's chin.

"The princess must always ride in style!" Ashlyn insists dramatically.

Ali feels something precious and warm settle in her heart, seep into her veins.

They walk out of the airport and into the parking structure, Ashlyn following Ali until she comes to a stop next a small red car.

"This is us," Ali says, her voice tinged with sadness.

Ashlyn reaches above her, lifting Molly off her shoulders with a childish "Weee!" and setting her on the ground. She looks up at Ali, who looks like she wants to say something. Ashlyn rubs at the back of her neck with her right hand, tilting her head.

Ali breaks the silence, the slight tension. "Well, it was a pleasure, 23A."

Ashlyn smiles then, her dimple appearing.

"Pleasure was all mine."

Ashlyn's not sure if it would be crazy to reach out and hug Ali, or shake her hand, and what kind of goodbye is appropriate for someone you didn't know 5 hours ago, but who now feels like someone you'll know 5 years from now?

There is silence again, and Ashlyn is still debating her next move as she reaches out for the handle of her carry-on at the same time Ali does. Their hands brush and Ashlyn doesn't miss the brunette's sharp intake of breath. Ashlyn's about to speak again when she feels a tug on her jeans.

Molly's looking up at her, chin trembling. Ashlyn kneels down.

"I had fun on the plane with you, Molly."

"Can you come to my house?"

Ashlyn looks up at Ali for guidance. She definitely wants to see them again, but has no idea how to tell a beautiful woman with a child that she didn't even know this morning that she really, really liked them — both of them — without sounding extremely forward.

Ali bends down next to them, putting her arm around Molly and speaking in a gentle voice.

"Actually, um, it's—" Ali stops, thinking, and Ashlyn's heart sinks a little as she hears the hesitation. Then she sees something flicker across Ali's gaze. Courage, maybe. Determination. She starts again.

"Molly, can you tell Ashlyn what Saturday is?"

Molly's face brightens. "It's my birthday party!"

"I bet you'd like to see Ashlyn again. Right, Molly?" She's speaking to Molly, but Ali's eyes are locked on Ashlyn's and they both know they're not really talking about the 3-year-old.

"Yes!" Molly exclaims.

The corner of Ashlyn's mouth lifts, and there's that dimple again and Ali's knees feel a little weak.

"I'd love that, too," Ashlyn says.

They go to stand, and Ali can't stop looking at Ashlyn as she reaches into her back pocket and produces her phone. She finally breaks her gaze to unlock the phone, pressing against the screen a few times before holding it out for Ashlyn, who doesn't need any further instruction as she puts her number into Ali's contacts.

Her fingers linger against Ali's as she hands the phone back. "Text me so I'll have your number," she says, adding "the sooner, the better," a little shyly.

Ali smiles, nods. Ashlyn grabs her carry-on then, holding her free hand out in the air for Molly. "High-five, kiddo?" Molly jumps up, gleefully slapping Ashlyn's hand.

"Bye, Al," Ashlyn says softly, walking backwards. "See you soon."

Ali waves, wiggling her fingers.

Ashlyn walks back to the taxi stand, waiting for a ride. Her cab hasn't even made it off airport property when she hears her phone ding. She sees a text and a picture from an unknown number. She swipes and feels like her smile will split her face in two as she sees the selfie Molly and Ali have sent her, tongues sticking out.

_See you soon! ;) -23B and 23C_

 


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _we have the same luggage and didn't check the tags before we left so i'm calling you to exchange suitcases (and you also had some interesting things in your bag so i'm excited to meet you)_

 

 

 _Of all the times for a flight to be delayed_ , Ali thought, trudging towards LAX's many baggage claims. It was Kyle's birthday, and getting in nearly 6 hours late had obviously ruined her plan for their day. Namely, ruining the surprise that was her entire visit. Because of the delay, the friend of Kyle's that she had recruited to pick her up had to cancel, needing to head to work, so Ali had to begrudgingly break down and call Kyle, spilling the beans. He had immediately canceled the rest of his appointments for the day, dropping everything to come get her.

Rubbing at her eyes, she's making her way through the crowd of cranky passengers when she hears him.

"Alex!"

Ali's head whips around, giant smile on her face at the sound of that unmistakeable voice.

"Kyle!"

Ali launches herself into her older brother's arms, kissing his cheek. 

"I can't believe you're here!" he says excitedly.

"Ugh, I can't either, after that delay," she says as he sets her back on the ground. She lays a sympathetic hand on his bicep. "I'm sorry the surprise was ruined."

"Oh, please!" He swats his hand through the air between them. "Surprise or not, having you here is perfect."

"You're saying that _now_ ," she taunts. "Just wait until you see what I have for you in my bag."

His jaw tenses. "Tease," he grumbles.

Ali just scrunches her nose at him, no rebuttal necessary.

They make small talk until the carousel buzzer goes off and the luggage begins to drop in.

"Oh, there it is!" She points out the black suitcase coming around the bend.

"Can't believe you, girl," he rolls his eyes, excusing himself as he makes his way closer to the carousel, "You've got those amazing arms and here you are, asking me to lift your suitcase off this thing when I know it probably weighs 60 pounds." He clicks his tongue a few times, reaching down and grabbing the black suitcase. He almost falls, though, as he apparently puts slightly more effort than necessary into it, the suitcase lifting easier than he expected.

"Oh, honey, you packed light! I'm not sure if I should be disappointed or impressed."

Ali smacks his arm. 

"Let's go, birthday boy."

 

* * *

 

Ashlyn finally opens the door to her apartment, more grateful than ever to be back home. The agonizing 6-hour flight delay had drained her. Everything felt heavy: her eyelids, her limbs, and even her suitcase as she dragged it over the threshold and into the entryway.

"Heyyyyy, _there_ you are! Finally!" Whitney, her roommate, engulfs her in a bear hug almost immediately. Ashlyn lets out a soft _oof_ before chuckling. "Missed you too, bud."

"Sooooo, tell me all about it!" Whitney starts, walking around the wall and into the kitchen. The refrigerator opens and Whitney raises her voice so she can still be heard in the living room. "Did you have a good time? How's Kelley?"

Ashlyn is relaying the story of a particularly adventurous party ("And then she stumbled out of the bedroom, in this _ridiculous_ onesie...") as she absentmindedly lays her suitcase on the floor, unzipping it and reaching in to start pulling out her dirty clothes to sort.

"And she's carrying a whole fucking _handle_ of rum and—"

Her hand closes around... _wait_.

She looks down and her gut sinks.

 _Oh_.

Those heels?

Not hers.

This black lace bra?

 _Definitely_ not hers.

She's sitting there willing it not to be true, for it to be a bad, bad nightmare when hears a snort from behind her and whips around, eyes wide, stranger's bra still hanging from her fingers.

"When did you become a lace girl, Ash? Didn't know you had it in you."

Ashlyn drops the bra like it just burned her.

"Oh, fuck you, Whit."

Hands raising in surrender, Whitney can't stop laughing. "Then please explain why you have that! And apparently—" she steps closer, peers around Ashlyn and tilts her head, "—all of these other things that definitely do _not_ belong to you."

Ashlyn takes a minute to survey the rest of the contents of the suitcase. Flowy tops and heels. So much makeup (surely this can't belong _one_ _person_ ). Curling iron, straightener...

Absolutely _not_ her suitcase.

Curiousity gets the better of her, though. She starts to poke around a bit, her eyes lighting up when she sees a couple of brand-new, hardcover books.

"Whoa," she breathes.

"Wha— Ashlyn Michelle! What are you doing?!"

"What, I can't at least try to figure out whose suitcase this is?"

"I don't think her thongs are gonna help you with that."

"I'm not touching her underwear, Whit!" she shrieks, voice abnormally high. "No, these books... they're about... surfing," she breathes. "I actually had this one once. I have no idea where it went..." she trails off wistfully, shaking her head slightly after a second, as if she's trying to erase a memory from her brain like a human Etch-a-Sketch.

Whitney gives her a moment, then points out, "Can't you just check the information card thing that's usually stuck in the back?"

Ashlyn rolls her eyes, reaching for the suitcase again, about to make some joke about Whitney being "Captain Obvious" when her phone starts to ring. Looking down and not recognizing the number, she hits _Decline_ and sighs.

"I can't believe thissss," she groans, head falling back. "I just got home, and I'm exhausted, and I just—"

_Bing-bing._

A notification tells her she has a new voicemail from the number she just ignored. Curious, she picks up the phone and listens.

_"Hi, this message is for... Ashlyn? My name is Ali, and I, uh, I actually have your suitcase? It looks just like mine and I wasn't paying attention at baggage claim. I'm really sorry, I came out to visit for my brother's birthday and my flight was delayed and— well, you know that, you were on the flight, too— and his presents are in there and I... am rambling. Anyway, I'm really hoping you have mine, so if you can give me a call back as soon as you can, if you do. Please. Uh, well call me anyway, because I definitely have your suitcase. Okay, uh, thanks. Talk to you soon? Bye."_

Ashlyn clicks off her phone, lifting up the suitcase and seeing that there is indeed an information card, visible through the small plastic window.

_**THIS SUITCASE BELONGS TO:**  
Alexandra Krieger_

Ashlyn huffs out a breath.

"Well?" asks Whit.

Ashlyn waves her phone in the air. "Found my suitcase."

 

* * *

 

It takes three rings before she picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, uh, Ali?"

"... yes?"

"This is Ashlyn. We got our suitcases mixed up?"

"Oh, thank _God_. I hate to bother you, but is there any way we can meet up like... today?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, actually. Where's best for you? I live out near Santa Monica but I can meet you somewhere in the city."

Ali pauses, not thinking to ask Kyle for ideas before speaking.

"... Starbucks?" she offers lamely.

Ashlyn barely contains her snort. 

"Ah, yes, the one LA Starbucks." When she doesn't hear Ali laugh over the line, she clears her throat and tries again. "How about the Grove?"

"Hang on a second," Ali says, and Ashlyn hears her talking to someone, muffled by her hand. She comes back a few seconds later.

"The Grove would be great. See you in an hour?"

"Sounds good. It's not your beloved Starbucks," Ashlyn teases, "but there's a Coffee Bean. I'll meet you there."

Though impossible, she swears she can hear Ali blushing through the phone.

 

* * *

 

" _Ali!_ "

" _What_ , Kyle?"

"You can't just start looking through her stuff!"

"It's not like I'm gonna take anything! I'm just trying to make sure she's not some axe murderer before I go meet up with her."

"Like I'm going to let you go alone," Kyle says, exasperated.

"Fine," she sighs, and goes back to the suitcase.

Kyle walks up next to her, lifting up a couple of black shirts. "At least she has good taste."

"So much _black_ ," Ali groans. "Not that there's anything wrong with black!" she adds, laughing at Kyle's gasp, a dramatic hand to his chest.

She's about to determine that everything this Ashlyn owns seems to be black when she notices a peek of color sticking out of a not-fully-zippered pocket. She pulls and Kyle chuckles.

"Oh, shit, that's cute."

A pair of bright blue shark socks hang from Ali's grasp.

She finds herself smiling.

She's going to set them back in the pocket when Kyle lets out an excited "Whaaaaat!" and reaches around her, pulling out a couple of tattoo magazines. "Be glad she's a she, Ali," he muses. "Otherwise you'd be the third wheel on my first date with this dreamboat." Ali just rolls her eyes. 

 "Come on," she says, gently plucking the magazines from Kyle's grasp and returning them to the suitcase.

 

* * *

 

Ali and Kyle arrive at the Coffee Bean a little early, and Ashlyn doesn't seem to have shown up yet. The siblings each grab a drink, going to sit at an outside table in the breeze. Ali is telling Kyle about the latest at her job, passing the time, when she sees his eyes go wide, the hand holding his cup stopping before it even reaches his mouth. Ali trails off, about to ask him what's wrong when she follows his gaze.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

This must be Ashlyn, Ali thinks, her own eyes going wide at the tall, attractive blonde walking in their direction. She's rolling an identical black suitcase behind her and, unsurprisingly, she's wearing black on black on black, a snapback backwards on her head, her hair falling in perfect, beachy waves.

She doesn't seem to have noticed them yet, so Ali continues to stare until Kyle gently kicks her under the table, smirking.

"You should wipe that drool off the corner of—"

"Kyle!"

"Girl, she is _hot_."

" _Kyle_!"

Ali turns her head back in the blonde's direction, and they make eye contact a moment later.

"Ashlyn?" she calls out.

One corner of the blonde's mouth quirks up, and Ali's stomach does a little somersault.

 _Damnit_.

 

* * *

 

Ashlyn comes outside with her coffee, joining them at the table.

"Thanks again for coming out here today," she says as she sits.

"I'm glad it all worked out," Ali smiles. "By the way, this is my brother, Kyle."

Ashlyn extends her left hand to shake Kyle's.

"Wow, your sleeve," he gushes. "Incredible."

"Thanks," she points, "love yours, too."

Ali's taking a sip from her cup, and Ashlyn tilts her head a little. "You too, Ali?" she says, indicating the loopy script on her forearm. "Love."

"Yeah! It means lo—"

" _Liebe_ ," Ashlyn murmurs, German accent perfect, and Ali swears her heart stops. "Love."

It's as if the universe is paying her back for her earlier rotten luck, because before Kyle can follow up the smirk on his face with a comment that would likely earn him a swift kick in the shin, someone calls his name from a few tables over. He cranes his neck and waves enthusiastically.

"Excuse me, ladies, I'll be back in a few."

Ali is still looking at Ashlyn, and she swears Ashlyn can hear her heart pounding, rushing in her ears. Thankfully, Ashlyn saves her.

"Oh! Here," she says, rolling Ali's suitcase around from behind her. "All safe and sound."

Ali returns the favor, still in a little bit of a haze, mumbling a "thanks".

"Sorry if there are some things out of place," Ashlyn is sheepish. "I wasn't paying attention when I opened it, and I just reached in—"

"Same here. I have to say, your shark socks were a highlight, for sure."

"As was your—" Ashlyn realizes she's about to tell this woman she _held her bra_ and thankfully catches herself, "those heels? How do you even walk in those things?"

"It's a gift, really," Ali sasses.

Ashlyn's about to respond when her phone dings, and she looks down at it.

_Okay, I haven't heard from you yet and I know you can hold your own, dude, but I'm still a little concerned so please tell me Black Lace hasn't murdered you._

Ashlyn flushes a little.

 _Whit_.

"Sorry, I think I need to get going." She stands. "But it was nice to meet you, Ali. Thanks again. Appreciate it." Ashlyn gets up, smiles, starts to walk away when she suddenly stops, turns around, hesitates for a moment before walking back up to her.

"Listen, I, um— I know you're here to see your brother, and you don't live here and I am never this forward with anyone, but can I— would you like to have lunch sometime this week?"

Ali's mouth must fall open a little, because Ashlyn looks like she wants to reach out and grab her words from the air, stuff them back in and not make a fool of herself. She goes to apologize, blush creeping up her neck, her cheeks, when Ali speaks up.

"I would love that."

Ali's sure the smile that blooms across Ashlyn's face could rival the sun.

"Yeah?"

Ali can't help but smile back, nose crinkling, as she reaches into her purse, grabbing a pen and jotting her number down on one of the Coffee Bean napkins. Ashlyn takes it, folding it into a little square and wedging it into her wallet.

"Ali?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad we have the same taste in suitcases."

Ali laughs. "Yeah, me too."

Ashlyn doesn't say anything else, just nods her head and walks off in the direction of the parking garage.

"What was that?" Kyle asks, walking back up. Ali knows he knows, even though he didn't hear their exchange. She decides to humor him anyway.

"That," Ali says, still watching Ashlyn walk away, eyes bright, "was me getting a date with your dreamboat."

 


	3. i, part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since a handful of you asked and i have no backbone... here's chapter one, part two. let's go to molly's birthday party!

 

 

"... and Grandpa and Grandma bought me _swings_!" Molly gasps excitedly.

Kyle is sure he'd be melting at her sweet expression... if he could see it. But with the way Molly is holding Ali's phone, the only thing he sees is the ceiling of Ali's bedroom.

"No _way_ , Mol! That's amazing!" Kyle exclaims anyway.

"Hold still," he hears Ali say gently from somewhere off-screen. Then a little click, and a triumphant "All done!" The phone is suddenly being moved, and he hears the rustle of bedsheets as Molly crawls off of Ali's bed.

His sister's face finally comes on the screen, but she's not looking at him.

"Okay, twirl around, show Uncle Kyle your outfit!"

She switches the camera, and there's Molly, smiling and twirling in her pale pink dress, little roses on top, and a fluffy tulle skirt with a bow to match.

"You look like a princess, Mol!"

"Because I _am_!" Molly laughs.

"Okay, sweetie, go downstairs and help Grandma. I have to talk to Uncle Kyle for a minute."

"Okay!" she says, running off, but coming back not a second later, poking her head around the doorframe.

"Mommy, you said Ashy's coming, right?"

Ali plasters a confident smile on her face. "She told me she was, baby. We'll see though. Now, go, go!" she says with a laugh.

Once Molly is out of earshot, Ali looks back down at the phone, and Kyle just stares at her expectantly, one eyebrow arched.

"Okay, I can tell there’s a story here. Spill!"

So Ali sits on her bed, telling Kyle the whole story of the airport, and of the rest of the week — how she and Ashlyn had been texting constantly, and even how Ashlyn had FaceTimed her from the toy aisle in Target ("I am _so_ out of the loop here, Ali, what is all of this crap?") for help with Molly's present.

He's about to tease her, but then he sees her face as she talks about the blonde, and he realizes—

"Alex, you totally have feelings for a _girl_ you met on an _airplane_."

Instead of trying to defend herself, she covers her face with the hand not holding her phone. When she finally looks back at Kyle, though, she's serious.

"Kyle, she makes me feel..." Ali starts, sighing when she can’t think of what to say.

All of a sudden, Kyle is cracking up.

Honest-to-God _hysterical_.

"Oh my _God_ ," he wheezes, laughing at his own joke before he's even delivered the punch line.

"What?!" Ali groans.

"It was—" (he's still fucking _laughing_ ), "it was love at first _flight_!"

" _Jesus_ , Ky— I'm hanging up."

She ends the video chat with a image of a red-faced Kyle frozen on her screen.

 

* * *

 

Ashlyn can tell which one is the Krieger house from the end of the block. She can see the streamers and balloons in varying shades of pink long before she pulls her Jeep into the driveway. Instead of going to the front door, she walks around the side of the house, hearing voices.

She turns the corner and her eyes immediately land on Ali.

She's effortlessly beautiful, plastic party cup in her hand, radiant in a white sundress, her slightly curled hair blowing in the late summer breeze.

Ashlyn sets the large, pink gift bag she brought on the table next to the other presents. Ali finally catches her movements out of the corner of her eye, looking over, her face lighting up. It's a wide, genuine smile.

"You made it!" she grins, as Ashlyn walks over to her.

"I made it," Ashlyn confirms. She's holding a small package in her left hand, but before Ali can ask her about it, Ashlyn's right hand produces a small bouquet of pink roses.

"For you," she murmurs.

Ali's cheeks turn the same color as the flowers as she reaches out for them, smile turning shy. In an attempt to hide her blush, she turns toward the small group of kids running around the backyard.

"Molly!" Ali calls out. Molly stops running, turning toward the sound of her mother's voice. Ali simply points to the blonde next to her, and Ashlyn is surprised Molly's eyes don't fall out of her head with how wide they get as the little girl sees her.

"ASHYYY!" Molly squeals, running full-speed at Ashlyn, barreling into her legs and nearly sending her flying back into the table full of food.

" _Ooof_ ," Ashlyn grunts. "Hey kiddo! Happy birthday!"

Ashlyn's about to squat down, ask Molly about her party and how her birthday has been, but the little girl runs off as fast as she had run in. Ashlyn chuckles, then turns to Ali.

"Ashy?"

Ali shrugs. "You'll have to take that up with her."

"Nah," Ashlyn says. "It's cute. I like it."

Ali's about to say something when her mom calls out to her.

"Alex," Deb says from across the deck, "can you go get inside and get the cupcakes?"

Ali nods, and once Deb isn't looking, Ashlyn places her right hand on the small of Ali's back.

"I'll help you," she says close to Ali's ear.

In the kitchen, Ali hands Ashlyn an empty vase before going over and putting the cupcakes on trays to take outside. They work in silence until Ashlyn finishes, setting the roses on the kitchen table before picking something up.

"Hey, while we're in here," she says, "I know it's Molly's birthday, but I actually have something for you, too." She's holding up a small, square package wrapped in brown paper, tied with the same pink ribbon that she had around Molly's presents.

"Wha— Ashlyn, you didn’t—"

"I know," Ashlyn says quietly, walking back over to lean against the island and reaching for Ali's hand, placing the package in it. "I wanted to."

Ali holds the gift in her hand, looking at Ashlyn with disbelief until Ashlyn smiles, lips pressed together and dimple on display, and nods towards her hands. "Open it."

Ali starts to gingerly rip the paper open, and when she sees what Ashlyn has given her, her breath hitches, eyes instantly brimming with tears.

In the beautiful antique frame (which, as fate would have it, perfectly complements the decor of the living room) is a drawing. No, not a drawing, Ali thinks, because to call what she holds in her hand a "drawing" would be like calling a castle a cottage.

There, in warm hues, is a small painting of Ali and Molly, asleep on the plane. Ashlyn had captured everything, almost as if she had looked at a photograph and copied it.

The small rip in the headrest of Ali's seat.

The little ruffles on Molly's socks.

The sunlight streaming in through the window.

It was all there, as sharp in Ali's mind as it was on the canvas. She almost can't wrap her mind around it, the care and quiet intimacy of the gesture overwhelming her. She doesn't realize how long she's been silent until Ashlyn sighs self-consciously.

"Shit, is it— was that too much? You don't have to keep it, I—"

The next thing she knows, Ali has an arm thrown around her neck, the frame tucked in her other arm between them, forehead pressed into the side of Ashlyn's neck. The tears in Ali's eyes dampen Ashlyn's collarbone and once the initial shock of the contact fades, Ashlyn brackets an arm across the small of Ali's back. The tension in Ashlyn's body fades, and she relaxes into the embrace, even as the edges of the frame poke her uncomfortably.

Even though they are alone in the kitchen, Ashlyn barely hears Ali's whisper.

"This is... the most precious thing I've ever gotten."

Ali finally releases her, putting a little distance between them as she looks down at the canvas one more time, swiping at her eyes. She reaches out to carefully set the frame on the counter behind Ashlyn, forgetting how the simple gesture will again bring them so close to each other that she momentarily forgets how to breathe.

She steps back, and she doesn't know how, but this time Ashlyn is so, so much closer. A week's worth of tension reaches its boiling point in Ali's heart, and she feels like someone just injected fire into her veins. She looks up at the blonde.

"Ashlyn, I..." Ali trails off. Ashlyn swallows thickly, tongue coming out to swipe across her bottom lip, and she would have to be blind to miss the way Ali's eyes fall to her mouth.

Ashlyn has seen this play out on TV, in movies. She feels like it's almost too cliché to be happening here, in this kitchen (her _parents'_ kitchen), with this woman.

Even though she's so, so nervous, Ali knows that there's no way she's reading this wrong. Ashlyn's hands are behind her, a buffer between the edge of the granite countertop and the small of her back. Her stance is open, willing, inviting Ali to take the final step between them. So Ali does, tilting her head to the right, pressing herself into Ashlyn, her left hand finding the sharp line of Ashlyn's jaw as she tentatively presses their lips together.

It's soft, gentle at first, almost chaste. Even though Ali initiated this, Ashlyn's still afraid to stop white-knuckling the countertop, still afraid the slightest move will break this spell.

She snaps out of it when she feels Ali tense slightly, just moving to step back from her, hand just beginning to drop from its place at her jaw. Ashlyn's right hand finds the curve of Ali's waist, gripping at fabric and muscle, her left hand cupping the back of Ali's neck and pulling her flush against her.

Ali inhales sharply through her nose, holding her breath a moment, and the tiny whimper that follows makes heat pool in Ashlyn's stomach. Ali's right hand scrambles for something, anything to hold on to, to ground her. She clutches at the front of Ashlyn's shirt, and Ashlyn groans when she feels Ali's fingers skim her abs, even through fabric.

Ashlyn is the one to break the kiss, sucking in a breath and leaning back in to trail kisses up Ali's jaw. Ali is having none of it though, tugging gently on Ashlyn's hair until she can get back to her lips.

Ashlyn has just barely caught Ali's bottom lip between her teeth when the sound of a door opening makes them break the kiss abruptly, their heads spinning toward the sound, though Ashlyn doesn't relinquish her hold on Ali's waist.

"Alex, honey?" Deb calls out into the house.

"Yeah?" Ali answers a little too quickly, her voice breaking just enough that she squints her eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Can you bring more napkins when you come back out?"

"Yeah, in a minute!"

The door shuts again, and they both sigh. Ali loosens her grip on Ashlyn's shirt, uselessly trying to smooth out the now obvious wrinkles. Ashlyn stops her, takes her hand between both of hers and holds it to her chest.

Ali shows no signs of being uncomfortable, but Ashlyn squeezes her hand and asks anyway.

"You okay?"

Ali nods.

"I’ve, uh—" she takes another deep breath, blows it out, still trying to slow her racing heart, "honestly, I've been wanting to do that since the parki—"

"Since the parking structure," Ashlyn finishes for her. "Me too."

Ali breaks out in a grin, eyes twinkling, but a few moments later, Ashlyn notices it falter slightly. She suddenly becomes serious, and Ali has to break eye contact with her, looking down toward their feet.

"Hey," she whispers, ducking her head slightly and bringing a finger to Ali's chin, nudging until Ali will look at her again, "what’s wrong?"

Ali's mouth moves silently, like she's trying to find the right words or the courage to say them, before she finally gives up and turns her head, and Ashlyn follows her gaze as she looks out the bay window toward where her daughter swings on the brand new playset Deb and Ken had bought her.

"Is... is this about her? Or about me?" Ashlyn asks gently, no hint of accusation. Ali looks back at Ashlyn, but before she has a chance to say anything, Ashlyn presses on, jumping into the deep end.

"Because I— I love Molly," she confesses. "She's such a great kid, Al. And I really like her and I really, really like you. So don't... worry about that. If that's what you're worried about?"

Ali sees the honesty, sincerity in Ashlyn's eyes and she knows.

She leans in, free hand tender on Ashlyn's cheek, and kisses her once more.

"I’m not anymore."

 

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, the guests have all filtered out. Ali and Ashlyn are taking some streamers down from around the back porch when Molly shuffles out onto the deck.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweet girl?"

Molly rubs at her eyes. "I'm sleepy."

Ali lifts her onto her hip, kissing her forehead. "I bet you are, baby. You had a big day."

"Why don't you go bathe her," Ashlyn speaks up, "and I'll finish helping your mom and dad clean up."

Ali's about to protest, tell her that it's totally unnecessary, but the truth is she's not ready for Ashlyn to leave, so she'll do anything to keep her here as long as possible.

So she nods, heading inside and up the stairs as Ashlyn rejoins Ken and Deb in the backyard.

"So, Ashlyn," Ken starts, "Alex tells me you're quite the artist..."

 

* * *

 

The trash has been bagged, the backyard returned to normal by the time two sets of feet are heard coming down the stairs. Ken's retired for the evening, and Ashlyn and Deb are sitting on the couch, looking at baby pictures of Ali and Molly, who are the spitting image of each other.

Molly walks in first, in new pink PJs from Ken and Deb, and to Ashlyn's delight, she's clutching the stuffed unicorn ("Bubbles", apparently) that Ashlyn had given her under her arm.

"Hey there, Bubbles!" Ashlyn greets, and even though Molly still looks exhausted, she giggles, waving the unicorn around in the air.

Ali's not far behind, having changed into soft, worn jeans and a t-shirt. "She wants to watch Tangled with us before bedtime," she announces, walking over next to Ashlyn. Ashlyn reaches for her keys, and she's about to start thanking them for a great day when Ali stops her with a hand on top of hers.

"Ashlyn," she says, "You too."

"Please, Ashy?" Then Molly delivers the knockout punch: she sticks out her bottom lip.

Ashlyn realizes then and there that she's going to have a hard time ever saying no to that face.

"Tangled is my favorite," she says, sending a wink in Molly's direction.

Molly insists on sitting between Ali and Ashlyn on the small loveseat, and Ashlyn rationalizes that it would be the most comfortable thing for all of them if she rested her arm across the back of the couch.

She catches Ali smirking out of the corner of her eye. _Real subtle_. 

As expected, Molly is fast asleep no more than 15 minutes into the movie, snuggled into Ali's side, one small foot making its way into Ashlyn's lap. Deb walks back through the living room a few minutes later.

"Want me to take her up to bed, Alex?"

Ali knows her mom well enough to know the real reason she's offering. She sends her a grateful smile. "That'd be great, mom. Thanks."

Deb scoops Molly and Bubbles up, shifting them until her grip is secure.

"It was really nice to meet you, Ashlyn," Deb whispers, smiling. "You're welcome back any time you want."

Ashlyn grins, nodding, and Deb heads up the stairs. Once her footsteps have faded away, Ali lolls her head to the side, smiling over at Ashlyn and taking her hand before a yawn gets the better of her.

"Guess Molly's not the only one who had a big day," Ashlyn teases.

Ali glares at her.

"Honestly, though, as much as I don't want today to be over, I should head back. It's late and we're both tired."

Ali's glare melts into a pout, bottom lip and all.

"Ohhhh, no. I can only be susceptible to one Krieger Pout at a time, so if you feel comfortable ousting a 4-year-old, we'll talk. But otherwise, put that away."

Ali can't keep a straight face anymore, laughing as she stands, taking Ashlyn by the hand and helping her up.

"Come on, I'll walk you out."

After finally accepting Ali's offer of a couple of containers of leftovers, Ashlyn brings them out to her Jeep and returns to meet Ali on the front porch.

The front door is still slightly ajar, and they hear the faint sounds of Deb cleaning dishes in the kitchen sink. Satisfied that she's not eavesdropping or spying, Ali closes the gap between her and Ashlyn, pushing up a little on her toes to wrap her arms around the blonde's neck.

"Thanks again for coming today, Ash," she says, her breath warm on the shell of Ashlyn's ear. "You made Mol's whole day. And mine."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Ali leans back, looking up at the sweet, goofy grin on the blonde's face.

"What?" she asks on a laugh.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Ali smiles softly, pulling Ashlyn down toward her. The dark of the evening emboldens her, and she playfully strokes her tongue into Ashlyn's mouth, relishing the moan the move causes and the way Ashlyn sticks the tips of her fingers into the back pocket of Ali's jeans.

"Can your parents babysit Friday night?" Ashlyn asks breathlessly after they part, lips brushing Ali's with every word. "I'm taking you on a real first date."

She feels Ali smile and nuzzle her nose against hers tenderly.

"I'll make sure they clear their schedule."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks everyone for reading, and for all your kind words! i'm heading out of town for a bit, so i will be back next week. have a good weekend! :)


	4. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _i’m afraid of flying and you were incredibly helpful and tolerant and sweet about it_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter talks about panic attacks and the emotions that go along with them, so please keep that in mind when reading if you are sensitive to the subject.

 

_Squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak._

That's all Ali can hear. Through her earbuds, over the monotone PA announcements, over the people chatting on cell phones, over the _click-click-click_ s of rolling suitcases on dirty tile.

All she hears is the damn airport bench.

It's obviously seen better days, and the blonde woman sitting in the seat next to her isn't doing it any favors.

_Squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak._

She turns the volume up on her iPhone, Beyoncé a little louder in her ears.

She can't hear the squeaking anymore, thankfully, but that doesn't block out the woman's knee, bouncing up and down in her peripheral vision and driving her absolutely nuts. Ali definitely isn't the type of person to ask a stranger to stop bouncing their knee. So she does her best to ignore it, and buries her nose in the latest issue of _People_.

 

* * *

 

The next time Ali pays any attention to the blonde, the gate agent has announced their intent to start boarding.

It's a rare occasion for Ali to really indulge herself, but she figures it would be worth the extra expense for a first class ticket on a long flight. So she gathers her things to prepare to board with the other first class passengers, and as she's wrapping her earbuds around her phone, she sees her again.

The blonde is standing off to the side, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. Her passport and boarding pass are in her left hand, the paper already crinkled from long minutes spent worrying, waiting. She's gnawing at her right thumbnail, occasionally knocking back the brim of her hat to wipe sweat off on the sleeve of her shirt. Her eyes shift back and forth, like she's waiting for the worst to happen; like she's half terrified the ground will crack open and swallow her whole, and half hoping it will.

Ali sympathizes, her earlier annoyance at the blonde fading away.

Because she knows what's coming, knows what storm is brewing and building in her head.

Ali can see the signs, knows them well. 

The shaking. The sweating. The fear-stricken eyes.

She wants to go over to the blonde, to try to stop it before it happens. She knows how hard it is to re-orient yourself when the fear washes over in waves, when you feel like you can't get enough air into your lungs, when you feel like you're drowning. Ali knows how hard it is to recover sometimes, and she always had someone by her side, waiting to talk her through it, to reach out a hand and pull her back out.

But the blonde?

She's alone.

Ali has almost convinced herself to walk up to the woman, ask her if she's okay ( _she knows she's not_ ), to see if she could help when the blonde takes a few tentative steps toward the gate agent. She holds out her passport and boarding pass, gives an unconvincing smile to the overenthusiastic man, flinching a little at the loud, shrill _beep_ of the ticket scanner.

And even though she's since jammed it in the pocket of her jeans, Ali can see her right hand trembling.

 

* * *

 

It doesn't truly happen, doesn't boil over until they're on the plane.

Ali stuffs her duffel bag into the overhead bin and when she goes to take her aisle seat, she sees that the window seat is already occupied.

The blonde is staring straight ahead at the small screen embedded in the seat, a hand gripping onto each armrest at her side. When Ali sits down, it startles the woman, who gasps. Her head whips around to look at Ali as her bottom lip quivers, and she starts to hyperventilate.

"Hey, hey," Ali says soothingly. "What's your name?"

The blonde is like a deer in the headlights, shaking her head slightly.

Ali turns her body toward the blonde, trying again and speaking gently, steadily.

"You're going to be okay. Can you tell me your name?"

Finally, the blonde finds her voice. "A—Ashlyn."

"Ashlyn, I'm Ali. You're going to be okay. Just hang on."

Ashlyn's eyes are still wide, scared, her breath coming in short little pants. Thankfully the plane is still mostly empty, so Ali has no problem getting the flight attendant's attention. "Can you please get me a bottle of water for my friend here? And do you have a small towel?"

As the flight attendant heads off, Ali turns back to Ashlyn, who has her head down, looking at her feet.

"What can I do to help you?"

"I— I ca— can't breathe—" Ashlyn gasps.

"Yes, you can. Look at me, Ashlyn."

It takes her a second, but Ashlyn finally meets Ali's eyes.

"I want you to match my breathing, okay? Come on, you can do it. Easy."

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale._

_Inhale, exhale._

"Good," Ali murmurs. "You're doing great. Keep going, slowly."

The flight attendant comes back then, and Ali uncaps the water, pouring enough on the hand towel to dampen it before holding the bottle out to Ashlyn.

"Little sips."

Ashlyn's a little calmer, slightly less shaky as she abandons her death grip on the armrest and takes the bottle from Ali. After she's taken a few sips, Ali smiles gently at her, holding out the damp cloth. Ashlyn switches with her, taking off her hat and wiping her face.

Ali reaches out a hand, hovering above Ashlyn's back.

"Can I—?"

Ashlyn's not sure what the brunette is about to do, but her eyes and smile are warm and Ashlyn can't imagine anything bad happening. So she gives her a small nod, and Ali begins to rub slow, soothing circles in between her shoulder blades, gently digging the heel of her hand into the hard, defined muscles. Ashlyn takes a few more sips from the water, capping it and sighing. She looks up at Ali.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "I— you didn't have to do that."

Ali pats her back. "It's not a problem. Unfortunately, I'm an old pro at those. I'm just glad I could help."

A few moments later, the pilot comes over the intercom, and they buckle as the plane pulls back from the jet bridge. Ashlyn seems like she's about to panic again, so Ali takes a chance.

"Here," she says, holding out her hand as they taxi along the runway.

Ashlyn looks down at it questioningly, then up at Ali.

Ali nudges her gently with her shoulder.

"Please? You can squeeze if you need to."

Ashlyn tilts her head, still not making a move to hold Ali's hand.

"It's okay if you don't want to. I just wanted to offer. Even if we don't know each other, everyone should always have—"

The plane begins to roar down the runway, and there's a sudden, firm grip on Ali's hand.

 

* * *

 

Ashlyn doesn't let go until the plane has pulled up to the next jet bridge.

"I can't believe you let a stranger hold your hand for a whole 6-hour flight," Ashlyn laughs as they walk off the plane together, the trauma of the day behind her.

"Like I _said_ ," Ali emphasizes, winking over at her, "everyone should always have a hand to hold."

 


	5. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _author of a book gets seated next to someone reading their book and making entertaining faces at each scene_

"Hey, mom."

"Alex! You on the plane yet?"

"Yeah," Ali says, holding her phone between her shoulder and ear so she can hand the gate agent her boarding pass. She smiles and mouths a _thank you_  when he hands it back. "I'm heading down the jet bridge now."

"Oh, good. I can't wait to see you, honey."

"Me either! I need to get away, clear my head."

"Oh?" Deb asks. "Something wrong?"

"No, no," Ali says, setting her purse down on her seat. "I just need a break, mom. Don't worry."

"Okay, honey," she says, but Ali can tell she's not totally pacified. "Call when you land, your dad and I will be waiting for you."

"Love you, mom. See you soon."

"Love you too, Alex."

Ali hangs up and goes to settle in her seat. It's her favorite: window seat in the last row of first class, left side of the plane. She pulls her headphones out of her purse, plugging them into her phone and turning on some soft, instrumental music. Finally, she pulls out the book her brother had given her when he dropped her off at the airport.

 

* * *

 

_"Here, Alex," he says. He hands her a small hardcover book, light pink book jacket and loopy script on the front. "I think you should read this."_

_"It looks... ridiculous. And cliché."_

_"What happened to 'don't judge a book by its cover', hmm?"_

_"_ Gravity _?" she reads. "Really?"_

_"Look," he says, laughing, "there's only so much insight I can offer on the subject."_

_"Kyle, you're gay."_

_"Please don't tell me you think it's the same thing."_

_"Well—"_

_"Alex, it's about a woman's self-discovery and her growing into her... new reality. And taking chances. Just... give it a shot, will you?"_

_"Fine," she says, taking the book from him and shoving it in her purse. "I'll give it a couple of chapters."_

_"Don't do me any favors!" Kyle says, hands up in surrender. "It's worth a shot, though. You never know what could happen."_

 

* * *

 

"Yes, Jim, I know," Ashlyn sighs, lugging her duffel onto the plane, shooting a smile to the flight attendant. "I will have the next chapter to you by the end of the week. Let me get through these couple of signings and then I will lock myself in the hotel room and finish, okay?... Okay, I'm on the plane, let me go. See you Friday."

Ashlyn stuffs her bag in the overhead bin, and she stops in her tracks when she looks down. Sitting there, next to her empty aisle seat, is the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. Long, brown hair, curls flowing over her right shoulder. Glasses perched on her (adorable) nose, a pair of white Beats over her ears, and, in her lap—

No _way_.

She'd know that book anywhere.

 _Her_ book.

It still kind of shocks her when she sees it, still sets her heart thumping a little faster when she thinks about it. She honestly never thought that blogs and journals she'd written about her journey through coming out to her family and friends ever had a chance to be noticed, let alone published. But all her public speaking had led to more, and here she was. Ashlyn Harris was a published _author_ , flying across the country to do book signings while her publicist was hounding her about chapters from her _next book_.

Crazy.

Ashlyn sits down next to the woman, who looks up and gives her a small smile before turning her full attention back on the book. Ashlyn's chest swells with pride when the woman doesn't even flinch as the plane speeds down the runway, eyes never leaving the book as they take off into the morning sky.

 

* * *

 

Okay, now pride has morphed into smug pretty quickly.

It's officially almost 2 hours into the flight, and the brunette hasn't looked up from the book once. Ashlyn's doing her best to discreetly watch her out of the corner of her eye, but also to convince herself that it's not just because she's really, really cute.

It is entertaining, though, watching her read. Her eyes scan the pages at what seems like lightning speed. She gnaws on her thumbnail, and even over the roar of the plane's engines, Ashlyn can hear her breath catch in her throat a couple of times.

She feels fortunate to be able to watch this, watch someone read her words and be affected by them so openly. When the brunette reaches up to wipe tears out of the corner of her eyes, Ashlyn almost considers breaking her out of her trance, but she decides not to burst the little bubble she seems to be in.

So she tries to look like she's convincingly playing 2048 on her phone, and she keeps quiet.

 

* * *

 

Ali is sure the blonde doesn't realize it, but she's been aware of her eyes on her for their entire flight. And it's creepy.

Ali tries to ignore it, she really does. But it's impossible to ignore those hazel eyes.

(Yes, she noticed.)

She has to admit, frustratingly, that Kyle was right. Reading this book has helped. She's found herself chuckling, tearing up, gasping— and, most importantly, relating. The book has made her feel like, when the time comes, when she's ready? Everything will be okay. If this woman could do it, so could she.

Ali notices that the blonde's thumb has stopped moving across her phone screen next to her.

She sneaks a glance over at her and sees her eyes dart back down to her phone.

Okay, enough's enough.

 

* * *

 

Ali gently takes off her Beats, putting them around her neck and turning slightly toward the blonde.

"Did you... need something?"

Ashlyn's head snaps toward her, eyes wide.

"What?"

"You've been watching me this whole flight," Ali says, smirking, amber eyes seeming to glow in the mid-morning sun.

"What? Oh. No, sorry. You just... looked like you were really enjoying m— the book."

"... oh."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," Ashlyn says shyly. _Nothing to lose_ , right? "Beautiful woman reading a good book, though?" she adds. "You make it hard not to."

That gets a laugh out of Ali. "Wowww," she drawls, smiling, "has that line _ever_ worked for you before?"

One corner of Ashlyn's mouth lifts, and she shrugs. "You tell me."

Ali rolls her eyes good-naturedly, lifting the book off her lap. "It’s actually really great," she says, avoiding a response to Ashlyn's comment. "It’s been helpful."

"Yeah?" Ashlyn says, eyes brightening.

"Yeah," Ali parrots. "It's very therapeutic. My brother actually suggested I read it. I've been... figuring some stuff out lately. Going through some things. And it's been a good thing for me to read."

Ashlyn feels like she's let this go on long enough, and there's no way Ali has realized the truth, no way that she can be that good of an actress. And, really, the longer she waits to tell Ali the truth, the higher the chance of it blowing up in her face. She takes a deep breath and drops the bomb as casually as she possibly can.

"Well, it was definitely therapeutic for me to write. So I'm really glad it helped."

Ali scrunches her eyebrows together and looks down at the book in her lap. Sure enough, the blonde in the seat next to her is staring up at her from the back cover. _How did she miss that_? Ali does a couple of comical double-takes before settling back on Ashlyn, who is sporting a sheepish grin as she waits for the fallout. Ali closes her eyes, groaning.

"No _fucking_ way."

"So what, I wrote _Gravity_."

"Maybe you could have _led_ with that—" she flips the book over to look at the cover, "Ashlyn!" she reads, exasperated. "Like... two hours ago when you noticed me reading it, instead of watching me this whole time!"

Ashlyn's not sure if it's just the sun reflecting off the pink book jacket or if Ali's actually blushing _that_ hard.

"Somehow, you get even cuter when you blush."

Ali scoffs, incredulous.

"Are you seriously flirting with me right now?"

"... yes?" Ashlyn ventures.

Ali huffs and turns away.

Ashlyn sighs.

"Look, uh..." Ashlyn raises an eyebrow until the brunette turns back to her, getting the hint.

"Ali."

"Ali," Ashlyn says, all semblance of teasing gone from her voice, "I didn't mean to upset you. Honestly."

Ali can hear the sincerity in her voice, and her anger and embarrassment ebb.

A little.

"It's fine," she says, softer, though she's still slightly annoyed. "I guess I'm just self-conscious. I mean this is... new territory for me. And while you were watching me, I didn't know you knew what the book was called, much less what it was about and even less that you wrote it. I feel a little exposed."

"Exposed?" Ashlyn chuckles. "How do you think I feel?" She points to the book in Ali's lap.

 _Touché_.

"Point taken," she concedes.

"Look," Ashlyn says, and Ali is taken aback by how _soft_ she is now that she's not trying to charm her figurative pants off, "can we start over? Let me get us a couple of Bloody Marys and we can talk. About the book and... stuff. If you want to."

If nothing else, Ali is always game for free booze at 35,000 feet.

"Sure."

Ashlyn beams.

 

* * *

 

One Bloody Mary isn't enough for either of them, so they're each sipping a second round when Ali chuckles, pursing her lips together.

"So, tell me about this bold choice," she says, tapping the pink cover.

"What about it?"

"You don't seem like the type of person that would approve a pink book jacket."

"And what kind of person is that?" Ashlyn asks.

Ali doesn't know, can't find the words, so she just waves her hands at all 5'9" of black-clad, tattooed author.

Ashlyn snorts into her glass.

"It wasn't a battle I was going to win, honestly," she says. "They thought pink was more appealing to women, which was frankly kind of offensive. It worked, though, I guess — got you to pick it up, didn't it?"

"My brother picked it up, remember?"

"When did he come out again?" Ashlyn takes another sip of her drink.

"Like 15 yea— hey!"

Ashlyn chokes, and Ali laughs, patting her back as she sputters and coughs.

 

* * *

 

"This was one of the best flights I've taken in a long time," Ashlyn says once they land and begin the long taxi to the gate.

"Once you were finished with the creepy staring thing."

"Once I was finished with the creepy staring thing, yes," Ashlyn chuckles.

"So what are you in town for?" Ali asks.

"I've got a couple of book signings to do, then I'm just spending some time away. Hopefully getting distracted a little from my deadline."

When Ali's first thought is, " _Maybe I could distract you_ ," she shocks herself at her own boldness. Then she remembers something Ashlyn wrote at the end of one of the early chapters of her book.

> _"I learned this early on: be bold enough to take risks, take chances. Never, ever apologize for doing what makes you happy. Take the road less traveled. Don't be afraid to leap before you look. And love, love even if it may hurt you in the end."_

"What, um—" Ali starts, "what are you doing after your signings? You bought me drinks in the air, I think I could buy you some coffee on the ground." Just _do it_ , Ali. "If you are serious about getting distracted," she adds.

Ashlyn raises her eyebrows, then gives her a dimpled grin.

"Hmmmm. Cute girl in glasses, likes to read, with an obvious good taste in authors... I might have to think about it, though."

"You know, push it and the only phone calls you'll be getting will be from your publicist bugging you."

"Your sass wounds me."

Ali slaps Ashlyn's thigh gently before handing her her phone, and Ashlyn puts her number into Ali's contacts. She leans over a decidedly non-friendly amount to hand it back to her.

"I may not be able to wait until after my signings," she murmurs close to Ali's ear. 

"Well," Ali says, not missing a beat, "thankfully? My copy isn't signed."

"A tragedy, really. What are you doing tonight?"

"Busy," Ali teases, "I met this woman and I'm hoping to take her out for a drink later. But, first?"

"Yeah?"

"I have a book signing to go to."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the quote from ashlyn's book is partially inspired by a quote from author mandy hale.


End file.
